St Josephs College - Footprints Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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and pillars. All was still. The flickering candle glowed before the eternally breathing Presence in the humble abode of the tabernacle. At the foot of the little altar trickled a crimson stream from a heart not yet cold. Only the sword of steel, less true than the life it took, touched it. There it remained, his life blood oozing from the body which a few months before had stood face to face with England ' s King, defending God ' s word and protecting His faithful children. Here was Henry ' s deed, here his love, his friend. Here under those same holy Eyes by which Henry had sworn, lay his victim. Duty to his King in all that was not sin. protection to the flock entrusted to his care, loyalty to Christ the King — all were accomplished. Thomas a Becket. the priest, the patriot, the martyr, the saint, lay at the foot of the Altar of ( k)d. FRANCIS McGUIRE, ' 29. i 26}{

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Thomas A Becket WITHIN monastery walls a noble heart worshipped. Just beyond the farthest echo of the cloister chimes lay a world of Haunting fancies and painted peacocks. From thence had Thomas come, untainted by the garish life, to this threshold of sacrifice, toil and prayer. A rare and complete transformation it was. What nobility and strength of will was his! Hardly can Thomas ' life of dutifulness, patriotism and martyrdom be told without its companion picture in the person of Henry II. King oi England, lie was monarch through no earthly sacrifice. All was hi- to command — everything that the hand of man could touch, the birds of the air, the beasts of the forest, and all to be had for the pleasure in the taking. Thomas a Becket ' s calling to the life of sanctity had severed his worldly friendship with Henry, as companion in the hunt and friend at the court. This separation might easily have been forgotten by Henry in the com- pensation of many other joys, had Thomas not pledged himself to the support of the Church. The King considered Christ ' s earthly Kingdom and his own irreconcilable. One must he subservient to the other; but that one would not be England. Was not Thomas his friend? Could he not he in the hands of Henry a direct means toward absolute control of the Church? Then could Henry he master not only of the actions hut of the souls of men. Yet, ala -. Thomas of Becket, since his adoption of his new life, was not the same Thomas whom Henry and his court had known. All Henry ' s attempts at gaining power over the Church were frustrated by Thomas, who rose, a flaming and heroic personality in its defense. The contest then became not so much Church and State as Henry and Thomas. The obedience of the Church tried the patience of Henry. He planned one final blow a tax on the Church to be submitted directly to him. Heaviness weighed af the heari of a Becket. One meeting with his old friend might save all. One glance into those defiant eyes might recall the days of youth that meant s, . much to both. Thomas ' many petitions were met with only a series of refusals, until at last a conference was granted. Sore, tried, and weary. Thomas, spurred on by the sacredness of his purpose and hy the purity of the love by which he was hoping to quicken Henry ' s regard for him. journeyed to the palace. Before the bolted door of the royal council hall the few and faithful companions of the patriotic priest mingled among the courtiers. All were silent in awesome suspense. Abruptly the portals were flung wide. Angry tones rang out — they were Henry ' s — Nay, by God ' s eyes! Thomas was calm hut dogmatic in his monotone response, ' Aye. my Liege, under those -ame holy Eyes, by which you so sacrilegiously swear, you -hall not! No further word was wasted. An historical note had been struck. The humble priest had defied the King! And not that alone, hut he had denied to Henry the power that a nation had not been able t resist — the power to tax the people that he might till his ever gaping coffers. The Mack clothed figure swept OUl of the corridor. The fire died out in Henry ' s eyes. His head dropped upon his breast. One pang of emotion hitherto restrained, rose within him. For an instant his worldliness was forgotten. The tragedj of it all was now evident llcniw still loved Thomas ' It was twilight hour. The time-worn walls of the cloister chapel were scarcely discernible. Shadows stealthily crept in and out among the stalls ■ 25 -

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Class History, ' 26 . Ind history with her volumes vast Hath but one page. BEFORE I lunch my peij to thai page of gold, I am going to glance over four treasured volumes, my reminiscent Scrapbooks. Dreaming over them before the fire, I cannot help thinking how like the seasons our College years have been, each a distinct act, imaged in nature ' s moving picture. The seasons come and Each with its gifts in hand. Thai u e may see and know How well all life is planned. Spring is the time of green and growing things, fresh and verdant, figuratively a fitting season for Freshmen to enter college and receive the first seeds oi knowledge. A little gold banner pinned to the first page brings back old memories of that ne ' er to be-forgotten first day. especially the cordial welcome from our Sister class. Next, there arc two remem- brances, one from the U. A., the other a program of our Bishop ' s reception, which reminds us of the holiday that followed. (We used t wonder, in those days, whether the Bishop would visit us often!) slice of garlic, pressed, hut long since scentless, revives visions of hazing, when we were adorned with those unique petits chapeaux. A Valentine program of Miir party to our Sister C ' lass. a lolly-pop from Class Day, and a black and gold basket from the Freshman Frolic to the Seniors make me relive thosi joyous moments once again. 1 remember, too, how proud we were t win ill. Silver Cup at the Athletic meet. And to think that we, the Freshmen. were the Champion Basketball team! In those happy days, how we felt the throb of new life! But we did not realize then. an more than do the freshmen of today, how verj green and insignificant Freshmen reallj are. As we curiously observed the upper classes, we knew that there were many things in store for us: 5 ve i Spring full o days and ruses. A box where sweets compacted lie Spring ' s gentle winds and rains soon opened Summer ' s (lowers. We found the skies more azure and the sun more bright, so our Class Colors of blue and gold were proving a true reality. Little by little, hlossoms were unfolding and stretching forth to feel the world. What fun it was for us who had been hazed hut a short time before to exercise our newly gained supremacy over tin poor subjected Frosh ! Now my glance is caught by a program of another reception to our Bishop; a party to the Juniors; a yellow tie. symbol of class Day; programs of Mary Jane McKane and Plain Jane theatre parties to the Juniors and Seniors. All these memories till my pages. Again we won the Championship of the Meet and the Cup is our trophy forever! Then once more, as Summer yields to Autumn, so must our Sophomore year give a to Junior, having added manj sweet remembrances to memory ' s precious fund. Our gala days are half spent. We know we must go on. hut some invisible power seems to check us during a brief moment: ' Twos twilight when I hade van go, hit still yea held me fast ; ll was the time of rases — And we plucked then as we pass ' d! 4 27 |